First, before you read this, I want to let you in on a secret. I've been going back and forth debating for a few days now about posting my testimony online, for all the world to see. I didn't think I was ready to be quite so vulnerable and exposed, but I had this nagging feeling that I was supposed to. That someone, somewhere would stumble on this, and that it may be what they need to know/hear/see/read/whatever. Not really sure. I just know that if a nagging gets that strong and persistent, I've learned that it's usually a God thing, and i should probably just listen and obey. I mean, after all, who am I to tell God 'no'? So, I hope you enjoy my story. you may want to grab a box of Kleenex while you still have a chance... Don't say I didn't warn you!
I was born 28 years ago to two hard-working average people. They struggled to make sure I never wanted for anything, except for a brother or sister. I can remember asking my dad for a sibling one year for Christmas, and his reply was, “Ask your mother.” That year, under the tree, I found Shaun Herbie and Ariel Kirsten – my Cabbage Patch dolls!
I was a shy only child who seemed to stay in trouble as a kid, and the trouble only got worse the older I got. The first time I can really remember acting out was at day care. I couldn’t have been more than about 4 or 5 years old, and one night, while my mom was giving me a bath she noticed marks from where another little girl had dug her long nails into my arms. She asked me about it, and I told her Monica Stickley had done it. What I neglected to tell her was that I had bitten her arms, and she had teeth marks! My first half-truth had been told, and boy was I in trouble!
In first grade, I declared that the classwork my teacher had passed out was for babies and I was not going to do it, and when the teacher wasn’t looking, I picked up my desk and slammed it down on the ground. That incident landed me in an ace bandage with bruised tendons across the top of my foot. Apparently, I was bored. This led to my mom and some other parents helping to pioneer a gifted and talented program at our school, but it didn’t help my disruptions much. In elementary school, I was in trouble so much that I thought the principal, Mr. Huber, was my best friend - I mean, we DID eat lunch together every single day!
When I was 8 years old, my dad and I went to our family reunion alone (my mom had to 'work'), and when we returned, my whole world was turned upside down. My mom took us to a place called Friendly's (it's like an upgraded Dairy Queen) and dropped the bomb on me and my daddy. She was leaving him. What made matters worse was she had already packed our stuff and moved us into an apartment in a new city, 25 minutes away from my dad. All I can remember of this is screaming and crying "Why do you hate me!?" over and over again. There are just some things you don't tell a daddy's girl, and especially not in a public setting.
It wasn’t until later that I would learn that the elementary school had told my mom I could not return the following year, and she told me this was partially the reason she decided to move.
Despite my antics and constant pleas, my mom and I moved into an 8 story apartment building, and I became friends with the next door neighbor, Amy. She was the same age as me and in the same grade, so she filled me in on the important things like who was cool, who wasn’t, and which teachers were mean. I ended up in the mean teacher’s class, and Amy went to the other class. Being in separate classes from the only friend I had was tough. I withdrew and didn’t speak much. However, I still managed to stay in trouble. Vandalizing the school’s wooden playground, passing notes, day dreaming, and not doing homework were just a few examples. No lunches with the principal, but some pretty heavy stuff for a little girl. I was labeled a problem child, and that label stuck to me like super glue.
My dad had started going to church at St. Paul United Methodist Church, and I went with him every other weekend. I joined the choir and youth group for one reason, and one reason only: boys! I made friends more easily here, but I was still the outsider, since I didn’t live in the area and didn’t go to the same schools. I only went to avoid boredom and to give me something to do. This was not my first introduction to church, since both my grandfather and aunt on my dad's side were Methodist ministers, but this is the first time we went to church that did not have to do with us visiting relatives.
In middle school, I was struggling to fit in, and trying so hard to be among the popular kids. I ended up getting mixed up with a group of girls who were in a “gang.” They accepted me, but I did not join. I was more an observer from the outside. An outsider. I was constantly trying to impress these girls, which got me a permanent seat in detention, among some more serious things.
In 8th grade, after school one day, I went to 7-11 and bought a strawberry soda. At home, I emptied the bottle. My mom had always kept a stash of alcohol above the stove, so I grabbed the nearest chair, pulled don the vodka, and refilled the bottle. I added a few drops of red food coloring to make it look legit, and added water to the vodka, too. The next day, the bottle went into my back pack before I walked out the door to catch the school bus.
Me and 9 of my "friends" sat around the table at lunch drinking the liquor and got pretty tipsy. The only problem with my perfect plan was that one of the girls was on medication and passed out. When she regained consciousness, she told them she was drinking my alcohol at lunch. I went down for distribution of alcohol, and was expelled from school. The 9 "friends" got a slap on the wrist, and 5 days suspension. I missed the entire 3rd quarter of my 8th grade year, and for 4th quarter had to be shipped cross county on a short bus to another school that took in the bad kids. That Summer my mom and I went in front of the school board and I was allowed to return to my home school for high school.
I had discovered my love for music and the clarinet in 4th grade, and decided I wanted to join band in high school. This meant I had to be in marching band, which worked out great. I attended 2 weeks of band camp at the high school before school started, so I already knew some of my class mates. I also knew a lot of upper classmen, too, and we were all a part of the same group. They really made us Freshman feel welcome and introduced us to some of their friends, too. I fell in with the wrong group of upper classmen, but didn’t know it until it was too late. One 20-year-old Senior thought it would be a funny practical joke to put a can of beer in my bag. I never saw him do it, but someone did, because administrators came and got me out of class, and my locker was searched. The bad thing about being friends with upper classmen is that their idea of pranks are not always funny. Well, this being my second in-school offense, I was in pretty big trouble. It was at this point that most kids face either having to go to private school or an alternative learning center. However, my mother had a knack for bailing me out of some pretty serious situations, and i always seemed to just skate by.
It was after my second problem with alcohol in school that my dad sat me down during one of his every other weekend visits and we had a long talk. He promised me that he would not have another drink until I turned 21, if I would make the same promise to him. It wasn't until much later that I realized exactly what had taken place there. My dad had been a very heavy drinker up until that year. And he quit cold turkey. No rehab, no meetings, and certainly no Celebrate Recovery to help him out. In fact, my dad told me after his last visit to North Carolina, for Noah’s 3rd birthday, that I had done something no one else has ever gotten him to do: attend a recovery meeting, or Celebrate Recovery.
Ignoring my promise to my dad completely, though, I continued to smoke cigarettes, drink and do drugs on a daily basis. I was a typical party kid, and was very well-liked. I was that one kid that everyone got along with, and could blend in so easily with all groups. I had a few boyfriends here and there, but nothing ever seemed to last. I’d always end the relationship thinking that I was going to get out before I got hurt. I was sleeping with guys just to do it, just to fit in and be liked. In my own warped mind, I figured that if that’s what a guy wanted, then I would give it to him, and that would make him like me. They never did, though, and almost always ended up dating someone else - someone prettier, skinnier, or more popular. Did I mention that my self esteem was also extremely low in high school?
I was having a lot of problems with insecurities, and was feeling awkward. I didn’t have a BFF, I didn’t really go over to people’s houses a lot, or if I did go to someone’s house, it was to get high and leave. I just felt so different from everyone else. I fit in and was accepted everywhere, but I didn't belong anywhere. I was a very lost kid.
Drugs and drinking became my way of coping with the loneliness. Even though I was always surrounded by my peers, I was always alone. By this time in my life, I was hiding the horrible secrets of being raped 3 times, my promiscuity, bitterness toward my parents for their divorce, suicidal thoughts, and much more, at just 15 and 16 years old. No one knew it because I was very good at hiding what was really going on in my life. Also, with my mom working so much, and only seeing my dad every other weekend, my own parents didn't even notice the warning signs. I drank or did drugs to get away from all the shameful things I was doing, to hide from my past pain and regrets, and just to be able to continue to do all of the things I was doing.
I was still attending church with my dad every other weekend, and I had a good time with my friends there, but hated that he made me dress up. I'm so glad where I worship now doesn't have a stigma or an old school point of view on church dress codes! I can remember on a few occasions during our prayer time at dinner during youth group asking God to take my life. I was too cowardly to do it myself, but I really believed that God should do it for me, and that I wasn't worthy of His perfect and unconditional love. Also, at that point, I didn't think I could stop the vicious cycle I had created for myself.
My grades were getting worse and I was failing a lot of classes. My mom barely seemed to notice this change occurring before her, because it was about my Sophomore year that she found out you could play Bingo online, and she spent endless hours in bingo chat rooms. She would come home, and if I was on the computer, she'd tell me it was time for me to go to bed, or take a shower, or my room needed cleaning just so I would get up and let her use the computer. She didn't ask about homework, school, or grades too often, and when she did, I'd lie and say it was fine. She was very consumed with her online life that I got knocked to the side a lot.
It got so bad that I ended up failing 11th grade. My mom had a choice that summer to either send me to summer school, or to let me go on an International Band of America Summer Symposium. Well, the correct choice would have been to make me miss out on the trip and suffer through summer school, but she had put money into it, so I went to Europe as principal clarinetist - a huge honor - and I spent my summer in Germany, Austria and Switzerland. In Europe, though, you can drink at age 12. As a 16 year-old alcoholic, I thought I had died and gone to heaven! I can remember one time getting up on stage for our afternoon concert so drunk I nearly fell off stage. This did not affect my performance, though, since I was used to doing most things under the influence by then.
When I returned home, my mom and I went to lunch. Jerry's Subs and Pizza, I think. I can't really remember the place, and I saw a giant diamond ring on my mother's hand. This was when I found out the real reason I didn't spend my summer in school catching up on my studies. See, while I was away, my mom had went to meet, in person, this man that she had been in an internet relationship with. He proposed, she accepted, and oh, by the way, he's moving in, too. Talk about shocker!
I met my step-dad shortly after, that October, and I instantly disliked the man. I saw him as the reason my mom had been pushing me aside, lied to me, and was abandoning me. I also hated the fact that his "job" was to be a moderator in online bingo chat rooms and run the tournaments, so he was ALWAYS home. He was on the computer from the time I woke to the time I went to bed, and my time spent with friends was over and done. I had to get creative with lies and deception so I could stay after school and get high or drunk before returning home to my imprisonment.
They ended up getting married in Las Vegas at a Bingo Online convention where all the players met face-to-face for the first time, since the people they played online with were their only real friends. It's kind of funny the dew things you remember throughout life. My mom's father passed away within a week before their flight left, and I can actually remember my mom blaming a dead guy (her dad) for trying to ruin her wedding. Well, the marriage didn't change anything. He still lived with us, still worked online, and was still always home, always on the net. My hatred for this man grew stronger and stronger as the days wore on.
Somehow, after 5 long years in Falls Church High School, I was able to graduate, and I walked across the stage. I was finally free! Well, not quite. I had signed up for my second year of nursing school, since I had taken my first year as a Senior and done well. Good thing there was no drug test to go with the entrance fee, or I would have never gotten in! I wish I could tell you that I graduated that program, too, but only 3 month in, with just 6 months to go, and seven hundred some dollars of my mom’s money in tuition, I dropped out of that program altogether. At the time, I had more important things to do, like get high and hang out with my friends and current boyfriend. I had also packed my bags and left my moms house when my boyfriend told me it would be for the best.
The drinking, drugs, parties, and sex continued on until 2002 when I was finally slowed down. I found out I was pregnant. At the time, I was living with my dad and my mom and step-dad had moved to GA. I just knew I’d be kicked out the house if I told my dad, and I couldn't tell my mom because she would tell him, so I waited as long as I could before I said anything. My dad being the wonderful man that he is accepted me, my situation, and offered love and warmth, which is kind of amazing considering that I had taken off in his car to Pennsylvania just mere months before without so much as a goodbye. I’m sure I’ve broken his heart many times in my life, but he has never abandoned me or left me when I needed him. He's a perfect example of a loving, but firm parent, and he's who I model my own parenting style after.
During my pregnancy, I quit drinking and drugs, which wasn’t an easy task after learning that the guy who had gotten me pregnant was married with 2 kids of his own already. I had known the guy for 3 years, and we had been involved in a casual relationship for a year and a half. I was on my own with this one, and I weighed my options out very carefully before deciding to become a single mom at 20 years old.
On December 23, 2002, Daniel Owen was born. I can remember that not long after this, I went back to the drinking. I had even found a baby sitter who worked for $1.50 per hour, so sometimes I'd drop Daniel off with her just to cruise the streets with my to-go cup full of liquor, drinking and driving. Daniel saw the sitter more than his own mother, and when I was around, I wasn't much fun. I would pick up a friend of mine and her daughter a few times a week, and we'd take our babies on a "date". This consisted of mommies in the front seat with to-go cups of alcohol, blasting Blink 182, and driving around while drinking. I was a complete wreck.
I was working at U-Haul’s regional office as a reservation manager, when an opportunity for a promotion came available in Atlanta, GA. My mom lived just south of ATL, so this sounded like a good move. I accepted the job offer, packed up my stuff, and with a 6 month old baby, and moved 3 states away. However, when I got to GA, I was told the job was no longer available. Still, I decided to stay and try and make the best of it, but the situation ended up getting the best of me. Being new in town, not knowing a single person, i gravitated toward the first person who showed me any interest. I met a guy at the grocery store I was working at, and we began dating. Just a month after we met, he introduced me to my down-fall – Crystal Meth. I thought it was a wonder drug. I could stay awake for days, had endless energy, and felt like all my thoughts were clear and organized. I was also never hungry, so I thought I could lose weight like this, too.
To skip ahead a little, the drugs got the best of me one day, and I called my mom and told her i couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't be a mom. I left Daniel with her for less than a month, and she let me come back home just before Thanksgiving. We never spoke of my addiction, and I'm not even sure that at that time she really knew that I had a problem. About a year later, the same thing happened. I called her up while she was at work and said I couldn’t do it anymore. Daniel was just a few months away from turning 2, and I walked out on him. This time my mom wouldn’t give in, though, and I was never to return home. That was November 1st, 2004, and it was the last time I saw my son. Just days after leaving her home, I looked at myself in the mirror, and something finally clicked. I missed my son. I was not going to do this to me or him anymore. And November 4, 2004, I made a vow to myself to quit drugs. Within 2 months of my leaving Daniel for a second time, my mom and step-dad had been granted guardianship over Daniel, but my rights were not terminated. I received the papers from an attorney a week before my 28th birthday to allow my mom and step-dad adopt Daniel, and on my birthday, I signed them and put them in the mail. I cannot describe to you how much pain this has caused me, to know that I had the choice to be a mother or to do drugs, and I was so completely selfish. I couldn't seem to put my son first, and I lost him. He's not even 8 years old, and he has already struggled with identity issues and confusion over what a family really means, all because I couldn't just say no.
But it doesn’t end there… The guy I was dating was living in his dad's house, and I eventually wore out my welcome. Being homeless, and needing warmth and food in the winter, I joined a magazine crew. They travel state to state, and go door to door selling magazines. Living that kind of a lifestyle, a lot of people turn to drugs and drinking. I would drink, but I still refused to do drugs. I lived this way for several months, most days eating nothing more than a 25 cent oats n honey bar, and maybe, if I got lucky, a 99 cent sandwich or 2 tacos from Jack and the Box. It was nice to see the country, but I wanted out.
I had found some people close to my age living in a trailer park, and they let me move in, provided that I find a job within a week. I checked everywhere, and nothing was available. I was facing eviction, had dropped so much weight from not being able to afford food, and had been in the hospital for dehydration a few times when I was introduced to a quick and easy hustle. The escort business. I was told up front that most men just needed a friend. Someone who would listen. I found this to be the case, most of the time. I made lots of money, and ended up dating one of the body guards/drivers. It was shortly after that I found out I was about 3 months pregnant. Talk about an end to a job. I kept it hush, but when my and the body guard got into an argument, he told the boss, and I was fired. Without a job, and no income, I landed in the Salvation Army homeless shelter. I begged and pleaded with my dad to return home, and finally he relented. I moved into his house, I think sometime in September, and I made an adoption plan for my unborn baby girl. December 20, 2005, Sophia Elizabeth Lusk (originally Card), was born. I am still very proud of my decision for her, and for not being selfish. I had to do the hardest thing for any mother to do, for the second time in my life, and leave my child behind. I never regret the decision I made for her. She has 2 wonderful parents who love and adore her very much, and she has a life I couldn't have provided at that time. I also love the fact that her adoptive mom is a Methodist minister, so that I know she is raised on God's word.
Let me fast forward, since I'm not trying to write a novel here. I moved to Greensboro in July of 2006 to be with a guy I met while I was on the magazine crew. It was fine for a few months, then he started to beat me. I left him, but something kept me here in Greensboro. I think it was my sheer determination to show my dad that I could finally make it on my own. Well, 14 different addresses, 3 homeless shelters, countless jobs, and 2 wonderful kids later, I just moved into a place of my own in June of this year, with no roommates! I finally made it, dad!
As I sit down now, and during those few and far between quiet moments I get in a day with two young children, I think back on my life, and all the things that went wrong. In doing this, I realize two things: One is that I made my choices. I was never forced, coerced, convinced, or threatened. I, and I alone, chose what I did. I also have since learned a great deal from my many mistakes, so I don't regret the first 28 years of my life, at all. The other thing I realize now is that God had His hand on me every step of the way. Let's consider the facts: I should have, based on my lifestyle and choices, been in a coffin or a prison cell. I'm not, though, and thanks to Him, I have a clean criminal record, marred by only a few traffic incidents due to my lead foot and not wanting to wear a seat belt. I am STD-free, I have been drug free for almost 6 years, and alcohol-free since my birthday - August 12. I'm also no longer struggling with the same low self esteem issues that used to plague me, or the approval addiction that was rotting my very being. Now, I pray every day, thanking Him for another day, where in my past, I'd take each day He gave me for granted and work very hard to destroy myself.
I am confident that God is the only reason that I am still here, though I have no idea what His purpose for me is yet. I am also working daily to do what it is He wants, and trying to not be selfish and do what I want. God has brought me this far, and my life is not even half over, so I know He will bring me to something great.
No comments:
Post a Comment